


Sex Education

by ohmytheon



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, probably badly written smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:07:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmytheon/pseuds/ohmytheon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, Daryl, maybe you’d stop being such an asshole if you got laid.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tension

**Author's Note:**

> I don't always ship Daryl/Andrea, but when I do, it's full-blown smut style. So it's not three chapters of smut (only two, thank you) - this was just a little something that randomly popped into my head and I thought it'd be amusing.

“God, Daryl, maybe you’d stop being such an asshole if you got laid.”

The words had had the right effect on him. The moment they’d come out of her mouth, he’d stood there, glaring at her so furiously, but with his mouth slightly agape, like he didn’t know how to respond. Maybe if he got laid, he’d stop being an asshole. No way – there was no way in hell of that ever happening. And he wouldn’t stop being an asshole either. That was just who he was. These people should have known that by now. He practically had asshole written on his forehead, tattooed on his ass. For fuck’s sake, he’d yelled and cursed at all of them at some point during the apocalypse; and he would have done so before it too.

Getting laid was not likely to change that fact about him or make him any nicer.

And besides, it wasn’t like there was any he wanted to, you know, get laid by or whatever.

Still, when Daryl finally snapped, “Bitch,” and stomped away, it felt a lot like he’d left with Andrea as the winner, what with her standing there with her hands on her hips and her head tilted to the side, one eyebrow cocked up and a little smirk growing on her face. He hated the idea of being the loser in their argument, but the moment she’d said those words, he’d thought that he might lose his cool and so he’d decided the best course of action was to just leave. Rick was starting to trust him; he didn’t want to break that trust because he went off on Andrea for the millionth time.

She’d been back in their group for one week, living in this prison home of theirs for one week, and she was already driving him crazy, already making him wish that she’d stayed in Woodbury. But no, she’d come back all new and shiny with even more witty remarks and smart ideas. It was like she’d been born again after coming out of the woods alive all that time ago. Woodbury hadn’t been the best of places either, as far as he could tell from what she’d said, but it had toughened her up in a way that living day-by-day in cars and tents hadn’t been able to.

And now she seemed intent on driving him back into the woods where he felt like he belonged more and more each day.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” Daryl muttered under his breath, lying in his cot, two days after their argument. He’d done his best to avoid Andrea altogether since then. That was how he usually solved his issues with people. After an argument, if he just left time to it, the steam would blow over and they’d be fine. He liked Andrea – or, well, he’d liked her – and she was one of the few people that could actually shoot worth a damn besides Rick and him. T-Dog was learning, but Glenn was a shitty shot. Maggie was better than him in the end. He’d been trying to teach Carol for the past month, but she was so insecure about it; and Beth didn’t even want to go near a gun. Michonne, the girl that Andrea had brought back with her, was a good shot, but a helluva better with that fucking ninja sword of hers. Hershel was pretty good, but he still didn’t seem to like guns. He didn’t even want to mention Lori.

But Andrea was a pro with a gun. She was brilliant with a gun. For a city girl, she knew how to handle a gun better than most of the country girls that he’d grown up with.

The only problem now was that she wasn’t afraid to argue with him or tell him what to do, like she was the boss of him or something.

Unable to sleep, despite the fact that he was taking watch at first light, Daryl growled and pulled himself out of bed. There was no way he was going to sleep. The fact that they’d been allowed to a respite made him even more restless. It was like the calm before the storm; and he hated that. Everyone else around here seemed to be growing complacent, maybe with the exception of Rick, who had lately seemed like he was one bolt away from a bag of nuts, but that only made Daryl grow more tense. He wouldn’t say nervous – because Daryl Dixon did not get nervous – but he was definitely on edge, like in those stories where pets knew that something was about to happen when their owners were completely oblivious. And he hated that feeling more than anything in the world, more than the feeling of being vulnerable and out in the open with nothing but his knife against a herd of walkers.

He pulled on one of those white prison shirts (surprisingly with sleeves) and slipped on his shoes. They’d cleared out the prison, but he still didn’t like the idea of stepping in something. Prowling around the prison at night might not have been the smartest idea, especially when he really was running on fumes as it was, but he couldn’t just sit in his cell in the dead of night. This was when people became sloppy – when they got comfortable – so he had made it a point of not being comfortable.

As he walked around the prison though, he still couldn’t get the image of Andrea’s smirk out of his mind. Maybe you’d stop being such an asshole if you got laid. Stupid bitch. It wasn’t like she was offering and there wasn’t anyone here that interested him enough. Maggie was all Glenn’s. It would’ve felt wrong and weird to do anything with Carol, who mothered him and looked up to him at the same time. Beth was too young, all doe-eyed and soft. And Lori was one pregnant hormonal bitchy disaster. Oh, and he wasn’t gay. Merle had told him stories about what went on in prison, how guys became other guys’ bitches or whatever, and he wasn’t about to do that.

By the time Daryl finished his thought process, he found himself outside and walking towards Rick, who was on watch duty. It wasn’t until Daryl was right behind him that Rick seemed to realize that he wasn’t alone and he jerked around, a rifle and flashlight glaring in his hands. “You mind gettin’ that light outta my face?” Daryl grumbled.

“Daryl?” Rick let both the light and rifle fall to the ground. “Jesus, you can’t just walk up on a man like that. You almost got your head blown off.”

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Daryl muttered, “seein’ as you were pointin’ that thing at my gut, not my head.”

Rick seemed to consider arguing with him, but then let it go. “Most people make noise when they walk, so I know someone’s there, but you’re still quiet as a mouse. Sometimes, I wonder how you do it.” Daryl just shrugged his shoulders. By now, it came to him naturally; he didn’t even have to think about muffling his steps when he walked because it just happened that way. He’d learned how to tread quietly when he was a kid, sidestepping around all the empty bottles and his passed out snoring father lying halfway on the couch so he could get to the front door and go to school without incident. Walkers were about on the same level as his old man. Rick shot him a sideways glance. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Daryl grunted in response, not answering but answering at the same time. Rick seemed to get him at least. “Wasn’t T-Dog s‘posed t’ be on watch?”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Rick replied, “so I told him I’d take over and he could hit the sack early.”

“Tha’ a good idea? Wha’ with you bein’ the leader and all. Shouldn’t you be rested up and shit?” Daryl normally wasn’t one to question Rick – the man had a good head on his shoulders and was more honorable than most even before the world went to shit – but he’d started to open up a bit more and voice his opinions. Rick seemed to like his opinions at least and took them at face value.

“Well, ah, I couldn’t exactly go to bed,” Rick said, sounding a little sheepish, not answering whatsoever.

Daryl understood him just fine though. Lori had kicked him out of bed. It seemed to be happening more and more often recently. Rick said it was the hormones, but Daryl wasn’t so sure about that. _Maybe if she got laid, she wouldn’t be such a bitch – oh wait, right, that’s how she got knocked up in the first place, the idiot._ He glanced at Rick and gave him a careful lookover, noting the other man’s scruffy beard, the tired expression, the jerky sweeping of his gaze, the frown set in his mouth, the tight way he held onto the gun and flashlight. It had probably been a while for him too. Sure, he’d had sex a lot more recently than Daryl had, but it wasn’t likely that Rick had gotten any from Lori in a while. She seemed like the type that held out for as long as she could to punish her long-suffering husband. A lot of girls did that.

Rick scratched the back of his head with the flashlight. “People are finally settling in, I think, but we’re all so anxious. What with the threat of Woodbury and with Andrea coming back with Michonne… I don’t know what to think. People are feeling safe again, but I feel so…wired. Ya know? Like anything could happen at any time and if it doesn’t happen soon, I’m gonna explode – even though I shouldn’t want anything to happen.”

“It’d be good t’ find somethin’ t’, ya know, release the tension,” Daryl said, thinking about what Andrea had said to him again. Getting laid would definitely release some of the tension that he felt coiled in his gut, knotted in his shoulders, pounding in his head. He felt as taut as his crossbow before he shot a walker these days. Jacking off really just wasn’t doing it for him anymore; and he’d only done it a few times since the apocalypse. To be honest, it was pretty fucking hard to conjure up enough images to get hard these days when his mind was filled with images of half eaten, walking corpses and blown out brains caking walls. The last time he’d used a magazine that he’d found in a looted store, but after he was done, he couldn’t help but think about how the poster girls were probably eaten to hell and missing bits and pieces of their once unmarred skin.

Shit like that was enough to make him limp as a sock for weeks.

Of course Rick wasn’t really thinking about sex and so he cast Daryl a little smile. “You’re right. We should try to do something as a group. Maybe a little game or something, I don’t know. Carl would like that. I think it’d relieve some people, doing something so normal, like a…a family night. Lori, Carl, and I used to have those every once in a while. Good idea, Daryl.”

That sounded like the stupidest idea that Daryl had ever heard of and certainly not something he had come up with, but he could tell that Rick was already in better spirits just thinking about it. As much as he would’ve enjoyed popping the man’s bubble because of how shitty he felt, Daryl decided to just let it be. He shrugged his shoulders and turned around to head back to his cell, not bothering to say goodnight or goodbye. Rick didn’t either, resuming his silent watch over the prison.

That was one thing that Daryl really liked about Rick. He didn’t talk a lot, but when he did, it was usually something he found important or something he had to get off his chest. They really only talked when they needed to. Tonight may have been one of the only times when they hadn’t talked out of necessity. Or maybe it had been necessity, at least for Rick, who’d needed a bit of peace of mind. Daryl had needed that as well, but the only time he got that was when he was out in the woods alone, hunting, off in his little zen world. For now though, he had his cell; and as he collapsed back into his bed so he could get at least two hours of shut eye, he tried not to think about Andrea or her stupid comment or how it had been a really long fucking time since he’d gotten any – and that was even before shit hit the fan for the world.


	2. Part Two

A few days later and the comment was nearly forgotten. Daryl had learned a thing or two about how to push things into the back of his mind left to rot and die. He’d seen things that he’d had to force himself to forget. (In the end, it wasn’t those survival classes he’d taken in high school or hunting lessons with Merle that taught him how to survive; all of his life lessons had been forged in the early years of his impressionable childhood.) That had just been another thing he needed to forget, lest he get distracted, and Daryl Dixon didn’t do distracted.

That didn’t mean he was a happier camper though. True to his word, Rick had come up with the idea of some sort of game night. They’d gathered up all the decks of cards they had – which had multiplied a lot since coming to this prison – and checkers and chess or whatever the hell lifers had once played with to pass the time of their sentences; and now everyone was piled in the rec room. Once dinner had come to an end, they’d gone in there, all smiles and cheeriness. It made Daryl sick to his stomach.

“Want to play cards, Daryl?” Beth had asked, giving him a look that looked suspiciously hopeful.

“Go fish,” was all Daryl had said before stomping back to his cell.

As he fiddled around in his cell, Daryl thought about what he might do. Hershel was on watch. Even though he’d had the morning shift, he considered relieving the old man. After all, it wasn’t like Daryl wanted to be a part of the festivities; and maybe the former farmer wanted to be. Still, that felt a lot like being nice to people just out of the goodness of his heart; and Daryl was pretty sure that there wasn’t any goodness in his heart. Maybe he could just lie back and relax; maybe he’d go to the library and find a new book to read. One thing about the end of the world was that it had actually gotten Daryl to pick up books voluntarily. Merle would’ve laughed his ass off at that – he had always said that reading books was for pussies – but Merle wasn’t around anymore and Daryl, though he’d never admit it, kind of liked reading.

A sudden clang made him look up from fluffing his pillow (why the fuck was he fluffing his pillow in the first place?), and he saw Andrea standing in the open doorway of his cell, leaning against the bars, that same, insufferable, little smirk on her face.

Daryl narrowed his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be playin’ poker with the fam’ly?”

“That’s not really my idea of blowing off steam,” Andrea told him before throwing something at his gut. He reacted quickly, catching it with his hands and using his stomach as a backing. When he pulled his hands back to see what she’d thrown at him, he felt his throat constrict and his face turn hot all of a sudden.

All Daryl could do was look at her like she’d grown another head. “Are you fuckin’ me?”

Andrea laughed loud and honest. “Great choice in words, Daryl. There’s a poet underneath all that grime.”

Daryl glanced down again. A condom. There was a condom in his hands. Andrea had come to his cell when they both knew that everyone was on the other side playing family games; and she’d thrown a fucking condom at him. And she…wanted to blow off steam? With him? He looked at her again, this time shrewdly. This was Andrea he was talking about. Witty Andrea with her law degree that meant jack shit now; pretty Andrea that had probably dated lawyers and doctors and all sorts of college boys; crazy good shot Andrea that had somehow escaped a shit ton of zombies and ran for who knows how long in the woods all on her own even though she’d been just another somewhat high maintenance city slicker months ago. What the fuck was she doing throwing condoms at _him_?

She settled a smile on him. “You do know how to use a condom, right?”

“Yeah, course I do,” Daryl replied gruffly. “Dunno if I wanna use it though.”

“Oh?” Andrea feigned hurt. He could tell because she was so melodramatic about it, slumping against the bars and putting a hand to her heart. “You don’t think I’m pretty, Daryl? Don’t think I’d be good? Oh, I do promise, sir,” she added in an exaggerated Southern drawl that borderline mocked his accent, “I’d be something sweet to you.”

“Shuddup,” Daryl bit out, glowering at her. She pressed her lips together and grinned at him. “Why me?”

Andrea shrugged her shoulders. “Why not you?” He didn’t say anything, just continued to glare at her, so she rolled her eyes and continued, “Glenn is smitten with Maggie; T-Dog is still mourning his wife though he won’t tell anyone about her; Hershel is old enough to be my grandfather I think; Carl is young enough to be my son; and the most attractive man in the group is married to a pregnant woman that can’t seem to recall the civil rights movement.”

“So I’m a last resort?” Daryl didn’t know whether to feel insulted or not.

“No, with a list like that, you’re definitely a first choice.”

He still couldn’t believe what was actually going on. With her standing in the entrance of his cell, he felt a lot like a caged animal that was stuck in some laboratory; and Andrea was one of the experimenters, reaching into the cage to pluck him out for the next round of tests. Was this a test? Was it an experiment? She was a college type. Maybe she was trying to see if he’d go for it, if he’d think she was serious, and then laugh at him and turn him away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been led on as a joke. When he’d been a teenager, Merle had gotten some of his girlfriends or fuck buddies to do that to him – to “toughen him up” or some other bullshit like that. He didn’t want to think that Andrea was on the same level as those sleazes, but he felt like he couldn’t really trust her either.

“So?” Andrea asked, looking at him almost…expectantly.

Daryl closed a fist around the condom. “So what?”

A strange look flickered across Andrea’s face. It looked a lot like pity, something he most certainly didn’t fucking want – Daryl Dixon did not do pity fucks; and he wasn’t about to start now – but then it was replaced by a slightly exasperated one. “Daryl, I want this,” she said, stepping into his cell. He took an involuntary step back; and she stopped. “I need this. It’s been ages, since Shane – and I know you know about that, so why bother hiding it? – and I just feel like I have all this pent up energy and frustration and I don’t know what to do with it here. We could always spend it out there, on the run, but it’s got no place in this…prison. I’ve been riding high, but with no way of blowing it off. And I can tell you’re just as on edge as I am. No wonder we’ve been biting each other’s heads off.”

Looking at her sideways, Daryl tried not to gulp down the rock in his throat. He looked at her – really looked at her, like he’d done with Rick a few nights ago – and saw her: saw the way her fingers always seemed to be twitching, her bouncing foot, the way her eyes jumped to any sign of movement, the way her whole body seemed to be vibrating but she was trying so hard to stand still. It was the same way he felt, like he was ready to explode at any given moment and the only way he didn’t just blow up entirely was by arguing with people. And really, Andrea was the safest person to argue with because he wouldn’t get in trouble with Rick and she could argue right back with him. Maybe the same could be said for sleeping with each other too.

“Okay,” he finally said with as much reluctance he could possibly muster.

“Okay?” Andrea repeated, stepping closer to him again. This time, he didn’t move. “Don’t sound so thrilled. I can always get off by myself.”

Daryl’s eyes widened for a second and then he shut that thought way, way down. He did not need to think about Andrea getting herself off. (Or maybe he did. That would definitely be something better to think about than the gutted out walkers surrounding the perimeter.) When she was right in front of him, close enough to see just how blue her eyes were even in the dim lighting, he felt his throat constricting again, felt a tightening in his chest. He’d been close to her before, even this close, but the air felt different around them, felt charged, felt _alive_ , like it was buzzing with the nervous energy that was stuck inside of them.

“How’s this s’posed t’ work?” he asked in a quiet, hoarse voice.

She tilted her head. “What do you mean?” There was a confused look in her eyes. “You have had sex before, right, Daryl?”

Despite everything in the world, Daryl’s cheeks flushed slightly. “’Course I have!”

She held up her hands, her lips in a tight smile that she was trying to hide. “Just asking, just asking. You don’t generally ask how having sex is supposed to work if you’ve had it before.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the right words, struggled to even think, especially when she was trailing her finger lightly on his bare arm, burning lines in his skin. Her just being this close to him, in his cell, with everyone else on the other end of the prison, was enough to make him fluster. Give him a walker any day over shit like this. Dead people were easy to deal with; it was the living ones that caused him all the grief. “We just gonna fuck and that it?”

“You know, I really had forgotten just how eloquent you are, Daryl Dixon,” Andrea drawled dryly.

Daryl went to protest, opening his mouth to give her a piece of his mind and tell her that maybe he didn’t want to fuck her after all, but she interrupted him by pressing her lips against his mouth. At first, it was messy and not good, and he really wanted to protest some more, but then he’d agreed to this and maybe getting laid would make him feel better. And shit, why not? Andrea was willing. She’d started this whole thing. It was one thing trying to convince a pretty girl to sleep with you; it was quite another when a pretty girl threw a condom at you and basically said she wanted to use you to get rid of some tension. He could deal with that, especially since he was getting something out of it in return. He could feel her lips curve into a smile when he finally began to kiss her in return.

Without thinking about it, he dropped the condom on the floor so that he could put his hands on her arms. She was wearing a long-sleeved sweater made of material that itched his skin that he longed to take off, but he really didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He didn’t know what she liked or what she even wanted. Did she want something fast and hard like she’d undoubtedly done with Shane or did she want something calm and gentle to slowly ease the stress out of her? Fuck, Daryl didn’t even know how to do calm and gentle. He didn’t know how to do this, whatever it was, with Andrea. Sure, he’d had sex before, but it had always been alcohol fueled where shit like that didn’t matter and it had been, well, a helluva lot longer than a few months, which it had been for Andrea.

Fucking hell, he was being such a _girl_. Merle never would’ve let him live it down if he’d heard what was going on in Daryl’s mind at the moment.

Andrea took a small step away from him; and he felt warmth leave him immediately. It was still cold from winter, though spring was upon them. Still, he couldn’t stop a shiver from crawling up his spine. She smirked again. Bitch. Abruptly, she grabbed the bottom of her sweater and pulled it over her head, tossing it to the side, and leaving her standing there in nothing but an off-white bra with torn lace that had probably been white at some point. This time, he couldn’t stop himself from gulping or just staring at her outright. Then she folded her arms across her chest, which only made her breasts show even more. “Well?” She wagged a finger at him. “It’s not going to be any fun if I’m the only one naked and you’re not.”

He didn’t know about that. Daryl licked his lips, muttered, “Ah, right…” and then began to work on unbuttoning his shirt, but his fingers fumbled and he couldn’t get it off quick enough. Andrea growled – she fucking growled at him – and stepped forward, smacking his hands away and unbuttoning his shirt herself. “Hey!” But she was sliding his shirt off him, running her hands down his muscular arms that he still kind of felt insecure about since they weren’t nearly as defined as they used to be because of the lack of food, and she took an intake of breath. The look on her face was one mixed with both admiration and…muffled horror, maybe, as she lightly ran her fingers across his chest. The last time she’d seen him without his shirt on had been when Hershel was stitching him up on the farm, but she’d been too focused on the head wound she’d caused to notice all his scars. “’S’nothin’,” he grumbled, grabbing her hands and stopping her tracking cold.

When she looked up at him, he could see how dilated her pupils had become. “You don’t have to treat me like fragile glass, Daryl. I’m not going to break.” His heart jumped into his throat at that comment; and he licked his lips in anticipation again. She put her hands on his face, her fingers on the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss her again. This time, there was no hesitation in the kiss, nothing light or gentle; and Daryl was able to tell what direction she wanted to go. She didn’t want calm and gentle; Andrea didn’t do calm and gentle, especially not she felt like she was wired to explode, and he had his finger tapping on the detonation button.

And so they went hard and fast, made a complete mess of things, and it wasn’t pretty one bit, but it was everything that he needed. They ran their hands across each other’s bodies, messy and out of control. Daryl was certain that he’d forget every contour of her body after this was over, but he’d remember the way her breasts seemed to fit in his hands. Really, the clothes she wore did not give her body justice, but it wasn’t like they could be picky. He slid his hands down her body, reaching around to squeeze her ass, and she jumped from the shock. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but he liked it, liked the way that she pressed against him when he squeezed her. God he was getting harder by the second. It had been way too goddamn long since he’d been able to get this hard in a while


	3. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I really thought I'd posted this already, but I realized that I hadn't. My bad.

There didn’t seem to be anything anchoring them; and with all their clamoring on each other, he was sure that they were going to fall. She was pushing him and he was pushing her. They weren’t being nice at all. In fact, it was a lot like their arguments. Thinking he needed to steady them – and he wanted an advantage over her – he pushed her back until she was pressed against the bars of his cell. Sure, it probably wasn’t all that comfortable, but she didn’t seem to be too bothered over it. He tugged on her bra, trying to get it off of her, but the damned contraption wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to stop kissing her to focus on that, but he was definitely becoming more aggravated by the second. Finally, he jerked on it hard enough that he heard a snap and the undergarment fell into his hands.  
  
“Daryl!” Andrea gasped, but with laughter. “That was my only good remaining bra!”  
  
“Sew it back right then,” Daryl mumbled against her neck, dropping the bra at their feet. He ran a calloused thumb across a nipple; and she gasped, pushing against him again. A grin crossed his lips, and he focused on that area. She moaned and dug her nails into his back. God, that sound alone was enough to keep him up at night. It wasn’t like the groans of the dead. It was a moan that said she was fucking alive and on fire. He ducked his head down so he could suck on the other; and she bucked against him almost painfully. Whining and squirming against him like some kind of animal, she just gripped him tighter, surely leaving scratches on his skin. He didn’t care.  
  
When he lifted his head, she attacked him again, kissing him hard and almost angrily; he felt the back of her foot on his calf, pushing his leg toward her. He took the hint and slid his leg into between her thighs, allowing her to grind against him without abandon. As she kissed him and he played with her breasts again, he could feel the way she shuddered against him. Her breath was hitched in her throat and came out in gasps; she’d rub against him quickly and stop, then start up again, her breathing getting antsy and her kisses less pronounced. Everything was so messy and not timed.  
  
“Daryl,” she breathed, almost like a hiccup, her head lolled back against the bars, “touch me there again, Daryl, do it, yes, fuck, god–“  
  
All he could think of was that he had to do what she said, keep running a thumb along her nipples, nibble on her ear, just keep his leg there so she could rub against him. And then she was grinding against him out of control and had her face buried in the crook of his neck and shoulder, whimpering and making noises that he hadn’t heard come out of any girl before. Her whole body was shaking in his hands; and though she wasn’t screaming, he could feel it under her skin, like she wanted to but knew she couldn’t. Shit, she was coming and she was still in her jeans. That felt even better than any kill he’d ever made.  
  
By the time she went slack against him, Daryl wasn’t sure what to do. He was still holding her, but he had one hand on her arm and the other on her hip, and he’d straightened up so that he wasn’t leaning against her. Maybe she was done with him since she’d come before they’d even started to have actual sex? That would’ve sucked balls since he was painfully hard in his pants. Still, he didn’t know. If she was done, yeah, he’d be pissed, but he wasn’t going to push the matter, not like Merle would have. He wanted some, but he wasn’t stupid. “Andrea?”  
  
She didn’t respond. She was probably done. She’d get her clothes, pull her sweater back on, smirk at him, and then leave.  
  
“Andrea, you–?” But he didn’t get to finish because she was suddenly moving again. She pushed against him and he stumbled back a little. Had he not lowered his guard or moved back from her slightly, she wouldn’t have been able to do so. Before he could say or do anything else, she had her hands on his belt, undoing it, and was unzipping his pants. “Jesus, Andrea–” He put his hands on her arms, trying to still her, but she ignored him and pushed through. In a matter of seconds, she slid her hands down his pants, into his boxers, and gripped his dick and pulled him right out in the open. He practically jumped like he’d been shocked with electricity. “Shit, girl!”  
  
When Andrea looked at him, there was a gleam in her eyes that said, _My turn,_ and truth be told, that kind of scared him.  
  
She bent down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, making his muscles tense under her lips. If she did what he was hoping she did, he was pretty sure that he was going to lose his– _Motherfuckin’ shit._  
  
It took Daryl a moment to gather his thoughts and realize that his dick was in Andrea’s mouth and what the living fuck was going on because when Merle had dragged his ass into this group he’d not stopped to think that the uppity lawyer chick that didn’t even know how to hold a gun would be blowing him in a prison cell in the imminent future. And shit, he’d only been blown once before, by what he was pretty sure was a hooker that Merle had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, and it was nowhere near on the level of this. It wasn’t that she worked him like a pro – because she really didn’t – but just the way she took him, then used her tongue, how she held onto him still, pressed her lips around him, and ah, hell.  
  
“Andrea,” he muttered, tapping her on her head, “’Drea, I’m gonna–“  
  
And he didn’t want to, not like this, not before they could do anything. But it had been a long ass fucking time and she was tugging on him with her mouth and fuck all. Even though his eyes were shut tight, he could feel her grin around his dick. What the hell.  
  
She stopped, keeping her hand on him though; and he opened his eyes and watched as she stood back up, holding the condom in her hands. “Sorry, but I had to pick this up. You dropped it.” Stupid, smug woman. He hated falling apart at the seams like that in front of her, but there didn’t seem to be any other way of going about it.  
  
In order to retaliate, he grabbed her rear again and picked her up, turning around and dropping her unceremoniously on the bed. He roughly jerked her pants off, panties and all, leaving her completely naked in his cell. . This was what she wanted, right?  Goddamn, he couldn’t believe this was going on while everyone else had their little game night. This was just fucking unreal. How the hell had he managed to swing this in the apocalypse? God must’ve felt awfully sorry for all the shit he’d had to put up with since. She propped herself up, the smirk still on her face, tempting him by not even bothering to cross her legs.  
  
Daryl snatched the condom out of her hand. “Give me that.” She didn’t say anything, just sat there looking at him. With shaky hands, he opened the package and went to roll the condom on his dick, but he started having trouble with it. Either his hands were shaking too much or his vision was still kind of blurry from everything, but he just couldn’t get it on. “Stupid, fucking – gah, fuck! The goddamn thing fucking broke!”  
  
He felt like the biggest dumbass in the world, like some fucktard loser that had one chance to get with the hot cheerleader in school but missed out on the opportunity because he was too busy being a dickweed. Good fucking god.  
  
Andrea didn’t get mad or frustrated though. She merely leaned over, snagged her pants, and fiddled around in one of the pockets until she produced another condom. “Just in case,” she said. He didn’t know whether to feel thankful or embarrassed or both. Did she just carry around packets of condoms with her everywhere in case she felt like blowing off steam? This time, she unwrapped it and, with a sort of calm that he didn’t know how she was capable of possessing right now, rolled the condom on him.  
  
When she pulled him down on the cot with her, he hovered above her for a moment, his hands on either side of her, suddenly very unsure of himself. He hated that – hated feeling unsure, hadn’t felt it for months since he’d found Merle’s hand on that rooftop – and now he was just inches away from a completely naked Andrea in his cell with his dick wrapped in a condom. What a great time to feel unsure. “Last chance to say no,” he told her.  
  
She splayed her hands across his lower back, pulling him closer to her entrance, and rolled her eyes. “Daryl, I just gave you a blow job. You think I’m going to change my mind about getting laid after that?”  
  
 _Fair ‘nough._  
  
He pushed himself inside of her slowly, hissing through his teeth as her walls closed around him. “Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned. This was a helluva lot better than any blow job, especially since she was so goddamn tight. Maybe that was what happened when girls didn’t have sex often – they got tight again or something – because he was pretty sure women weren’t supposed to be like this. Apparently he was going too slow for her taste though because she bucked up and pushed him down, forcing him to go all the way into her. Both of them gasped out loud at the same time. “Yer…yer really fuckin’ tight.”  
  
“It’s been a while,” Andrea gasped out as she slowly began to move against him, prompting him to move his hips as well.  
  
He pressed his forehead against hers as he began to rock in and out of her. She was wet enough to make it easy on them both, though he had to wonder if it was enough. If he hadn’t had his eyes closed so tight, he would’ve seen the little smile on her face that wasn’t a mocking smirk at all. This was definitely as close as he’d ever been with a girl. The girls he’d had sex with – well, it hadn’t really been anything personal. He hadn’t been dating them, hadn’t really been close friends with them. It’d really just been mistakes. He’d be too drunk or the girl would be too drunk and that was that. Girls hadn’t gone out of their way to be with him; and he hadn’t done shit to be with a girl for a long ass time, not since right after he’d graduated high school. This was different though. This was…this was just close.  
  
Daryl Dixon didn’t do intimate, but maybe he could do this, whatever it was.  
  
Pulling his forehead away, Daryl allowed his hands to roam on her body again. He remembered that she liked it when he gently touched her nipples, so he did that, liking the feeling of her breasts anyways. She immediately bucked against him harder when he did that, so he quickened his strokes. Jesus, if she didn’t hurry, he was going to come before she did. (But really, that wouldn’t matter, because she’d come already.) One of her hands was running through his hair, her fingers slipping through it, rubbing his scalp in an a way that was almost relaxing and gentle, but then she’d tug on it and he’d mess up his stroke, pushing into her harder than before, and she let out a throaty, quiet laugh. Were people supposed to laugh during sex? She kissed him before he could say anything, swallowing his words and slipping her tongue into his mouth. Her hand in his hair traveled down his neck, over his shoulders, and raked into his back; her other hand, however, slid in between them and she began to rub herself.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Andrea,” Daryl muttered, which only made her laugh again, which he cut off by making her gasp.  
  
“Just – just shut up and go faster,” Andrea told him.  
  
He was only happy to oblige. As he quickened his pace, he noticed that she hastened hers, like they were racing. Was it a race? He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. All he cared about was the heat pooling inside of him, the sweat on his face, the way his muscles seemed to be clenching and his head was strangely no longer pounding, even if he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest. Her breathing started to stutter again, like it had when she’d come; and he knew that she was close. Good, because he didn’t think he could hold off much longer. Without any warning, she was moaning, “Oh God, oh God,” loudly, so he clamped his mouth over hers. Fuck, everyone was going to hear them even if there were concrete walls separating them.  
  
But it wasn’t like he could control himself either. With her orgasm coursing through her body, the walls of her vagina were clenching down on him, and she was bucking underneath him and whimpering in his mouth, it was quite more than enough to send him over the edge; and he shoved himself into her fast and without any sort of tempo. Light seemed to burst in his mind’s eye as he came, spending himself in the condom. How could he have ever been expected to hold back with her doing that?  
  
When he was finally done, both of them breathing heavily and sweat rolling down him, the blood returning to his cheeks, Daryl damn near collapsed on top of her. His arms were shaking with the weight of holding him up. He pulled himself out of her quickly and then flopped down on the cot next to her. There was barely enough room for them both on it, but she wiggled around so that she was on her side, giving them both enough room to be somewhat comfortable. He glanced at her quickly, kind of embarrassed, what with his dick just lying out. He was still in his pants somehow, while she was buck ass naked. Quickly, he pulled the condom off, tying it up and throwing it in a trash bin, and then tucked himself back into his pants. Part of him wondered if he should get a blanket to cover her up, but he didn’t want to move or be too nice. Maybe she’d get the idea that he wanted her to stay.  
  
“Feel better?” she asked him.  
  
Daryl thought about it for a second. He could feel the way that his entire body seemed to be relaxed. For the first time in what felt like a long time, he knew that he’d actually be able to fall asleep and not wake up feeling like he’d been hit by a bus. He’d been holding all of his tension in shoulders, but now that seemed mostly gone. The headache that he hadn’t even realized that he’d had because he’d had it for so long was gone. His whole body just felt so lax. The only time he got anywhere close to feeling like this was when he was hunting off on his own.  
  
“Tha’s what I call blowin’ off steam,” he confirmed.  
  
Andrea laughed and pulled herself up in the sitting position, swinging around so that her feet were on the ground, and then stood up. Delicately, she traipsed around his room, gathering her clothes, and slowly began to put them back on. She started with her pants and underwear first, pulling them over her hips and buttoning her jeans up. When she picked up her broken bra, she sighed and waved it at him, but there was a smile on her face still. He just shrugged his shoulders. She pulled her sweater over her head; and it almost looked like nothing had happened, except for the fact that her hair was a complete mess.  
  
“Thanks, Daryl,” she finally said, which sounded absurd. She was thanking him for sleeping with her? But no, it was more than that. She was thanking him for allowing her to take her frustrations out on him, for helping her relax and find some sort of peace and get rid of the high. Really, he should’ve been the one thanking her. It’d been years since he’d gotten laid properly. She didn’t need to know that though and he wasn’t the apologizing type.  
  
She was starting to leave, when Daryl sat up and suddenly said, “Hey, Andrea.”  
  
“Yeah?” Andrea turned back to face him.  
  
“You know, yer not nearly as big of a bitch when you get laid.”  
  
Andrea smirked again. “Then maybe we should do this more often.”  
  
Daryl could get used to Andrea not being a complete bitch; and maybe he wouldn’t be such an asshole to everyone either.


End file.
